Benedicth did not move immediately.
And that...
that was what truly terrified the hall.
Not the screams.
Not the blood.
Not Andrea pinned to the floor like an animal finally dragged out of the shadows.
It was the king.
Motionless.
His eyes fixed on his wife.
On the Queen.
On the woman he had known for decades.
And who, in that moment, seemed dangerously close to becoming something even he could no longer reach.
The silence around him was absolute.
Because men accustomed to war recognize certain moments.
And this...
was the exact second a kingdom decides whether it will remain a kingdom...
or become a mass grave.
Benedicth descended the steps slowly.
One.
Then another.
The sound of his boots echoed across the shattered marble.
Andrea began laughing again.
Hysterical now.
Covered in blood.
— Did you hear that? — she spat. — The Moon's Chosen is being devoured while all of you—
The impact came before she finished.
Benedicth struck her hard enough to send her body spinning across the floor.
Silence.
Complete.
The king stood over her.
Breathing controlled.
Eyes dead.
— Do not speak of her with that filthy mouth again.
The quiet voice was worse than a scream.
Andrea spat blood.
Still smiling.
Still trying to appear important.
Pathetic.
— You made her weak, — she hissed. — Spoiled... adored... protected too much...
Benedicth tilted his head slightly.
Observing.
Like a man finally looking at an insect that served no purpose.
— No, — he replied. — We made her loved.
The difference crushed the air itself.
Because there lay the truth Andrea would never understand.
Elizabeth inspired loyalty not through fear.
But because she was loved.
And miserable people hate that more than they hate hunger.
The king raised his gaze.
The nobles immediately looked away.
Cowards.
All of them.
— Thirty years... — Benedicth murmured. — Thirty years building enough peace for vermin to believe they could negotiate the succession of my kingdom as though they were selecting breeding stock.
No one dared breathe.
He slowly turned toward the councilors.
The oldest were already pale.
The guilty ones...
looked like corpses waiting for confirmation.
— You conspired against my future Luna.
Another step.
— Against my son.
One more.
— Against Solari.
The weight of his presence began crushing the entire hall.
Alphas lowered their eyes.
Betas trembled.
Even the proudest Omegas instinctively stepped back.
Because this was no longer merely a king.
This was an ancient male being informed that someone had attempted to destroy his pack.
And that awakened ugly things.
Very ugly things.
Benedicth stopped beside Estela.
Not touching her yet.
But close.
Present.
— My love... — he said quietly.
The Queen did not look at him immediately.
Her eyes remained fixed on Andrea as though calculating how many pieces she could tear from her before dawn.
Then he took her hand.
Covered in blood.
Trembling almost imperceptibly.
That broke something inside him.
Because Estela did not tremble.
Never.
— She is not dead yet, — he said.
Not as hope.
As an order.
Estela finally turned her head.
And Benedicth saw it.
The pain.
Raw.
Hidden beneath layers of steel and crown.
— And if she is? — she asked, so softly only he could hear.
The king held her gaze.
Without looking away.
— Then the entire world will learn why no one touches our children.
Silence.
Heavy.
Ancient.
He turned back toward the hall.
— Seal Solari.
The command fell like divine judgment.
— No one enters.
— No one leaves.
The guards immediately slammed their weapons against the floor.
— I want the names of everyone involved before sunrise.
His gaze swept across the councilors.
— And if anyone lies...
A pause.
Small.
Horrible.
— I will tear the truth from them with my own hands.
Andrea finally lost part of her smile.
Only part.
But Benedicth saw it.
Of course he did.
He approached her once more.
Slowly crouching.
The King of Solari before the traitor.
— You wagered on the wrong death, — he murmured.
She frowned.
And then...
for the first time...
Benedicth smiled.
Cold.
Terrible.
— Because if Elizabeth survives...
He tilted his head slightly.
— Not even the Goddess will be able to save you from her.
And the worst part?
He was not exaggerating.
Not in the slightest.